Hidden Things
by BlueIsTheColourOfOurPlanet
Summary: He opens the door and Ed knows that today something is different. All the other times she had had to come here he had still been in uniform, immaculate like a toy soldier. Now he is wearing a bathrobe, probably thrown over sleep clothes to make him look somewhat more dignified when opening the door not wrapped up in his authority. ... This story is of a darker nature. fem!Ed/Roy.
1. Chapter 1

**So I felt like writing something that is a bit more on the dark side and this is what happened...**

 **Special thanks to No.1DigiBakuFan who helped me out as beta and motivated me a great deal to finally finish this.**

 ** _Warning:_ When I say dark I mean almost rape and blood. People who might be triggered by this or are under age ought to be careful.**

 **That said: Have fun reading and maybe leave this author an opinion on her work :)**

 **Hidden Things**

 **Chapter 1**

He opens the door and Ed knows that today something is different.

All the other times she had had to come here he had still been in uniform, immaculate like a toy soldier. Now he is wearing a bathrobe, probably thrown over sleep clothes to make him look somewhat more dignified when opening the door not wrapped up in his authority.

"What are you doing here? I told you not to come here today."

Another difference. Usually his voice is all smooth and mocking. Lately he had been more silent. But today he is plain annoyed, almost snapping at her.

"I need that information Mustang and I _know_ you have something, you _always_ do!"

"Come back tomorrow or something." He makes to close the door.

Ed puts a foot in. "No. I can't! I won't let Al suffer in that armour a single day longer than necessary just because you're an asshole! And it's hard enough to keep this secret from him as it is, do you know how difficult it is to lie to him about where I go without him? He knows me better than anyone else and he's suspicious as hell already because he can see I don't like where I'm going! So let's get this over with _today_ as was planned! The deal was every Saturday and I don't want to hate another day of the week because of you!"

"Don't talk that loud you damn brat!" he hisses, then steps back into the house, leaving the door open for her to follow him in.

Ed walks through to the living room. She knows the drill so she begins to strip her clothes. Stopping though when she realises a few more unusual things. For one Mustang isn't sitting on the couch, leaning back and watching her undress with unreadable eyes. Actually he isn't even in the room. Then the room itself isn't as tidy as usual. The desk in the corner is covered in papers, that is normal, but some were carelessly, almost angrily, swept to the floor. The familiar blue uniform is haphazardly strewn across the carpet, here the shirt, there the pants, elsewhere the jacket. The white belt hangs over the back of the couch, the gun usually strapped to it has been placed on the coffee table. Next to it a tumbler and a bottle of alcohol.

Ed has never cared much for alcohol so she doesn't know the exact name of the liquid but she can tell it's strong. And already some of it is missing. Maybe _that_ is the explanation for Mustang's unusual snappiness. His unusually ruffled appearance.

A sound behind her alerts her to Mustang stepping back into the living room.

"There, now go." And he slaps a folder against her chest.

Ed barely catches it, reaction slowed by surprise and confusion. She looks at it, then flicks through the pages. Classified notes, confiscated by the military long ago, written by an alchemist who claimed that everyone has a philosopher's stone within themselves and then experimented in illegal ways to confirm that. Information hard to get, something Mustang would usually make a fuss about, taking two rounds from her instead of just one.

Ed stares at him in surprise. Until now the colonel never gave anything to her before she had paid the price, he has always waited until after. From his position on the couch he glares back at her.

"What is it?" The voice strains to come out as smooth and superior as usual. It disturbs Ed.

"Nothing." she says, not sure if it would be a good thing to admit her confusion.

"Then go." He grabs the bottle and fills the tumbler on the coffee table in front of him.

This time she can't help it. "But... what about...?"

"You have what you wanted and you know where the door is." He looks at her from over the rim of the glass. "Told you I don't want you here today." And he drinks the glass down.

"But... it's not equivalent..."

"I'll collect payment another day then."

"I don't want to be in your debt!" What if Mustang is not taking the usual payment because he needs her to owe him, because he has something even worse that he wants her to do?!

"Then leave the folder here." Filling the tumbler once more.

"Very funny! Remember what I just told you about why I'm here even though you told me to piss off? Or are you too wasted already?!"

A bitter grin. "I'm not wasted yet and if I was intending to get so then I wouldn't bother with a glass. Now, if you'd _please_ leave." Only Mustang could make 'please' sound like a command. The contents of the tumbler vanish down his throat once more.

She stares down at the folder then back up at him. "Why can't we just do this as usual?!"

"And here I thought you'd jump at the opportunity to get out of here with information you didn't have to pay for." This sounds more like his usual smug self, though now that she has seen the cracks she recognises the behaviour for what it is: A diversion. A shield for whatever is beneath that surface.

"I don't believe that things can be for free and you know that!"

"Oh yes, I know that very well," he drawls.

How she wants to punch that smirk from his face... Though something about the grin is off. It doesn't reach his eyes, no smug cunning twinkles in those dark orbs. Fake. And Mustang is reaching for the bottle once again.

"Thought you didn't want to get wasted?" Ed asks with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Your annoying presence changed my mind." Sweet like ice cream and just as cold.

"You could easily get rid of me if you'd just stick to the deal!" she growls.

Now he is the one who raises his brows. "You know, I'm starting to think you _like_ coming here."

"Yeah, I totally _like_ being your little whore!" The sarcasm is so thick it is almost tangible.

And he laughs. The asshole just laughs. "You just called yourself small!" He has to put down the tumbler and the bottle as he shakes from laughter.

Ed's face is burning and she wants nothing more than to strangle the man with the belt still hanging there, right next to his neck, over the back of the couch. Yet she doesn't because she is busy wondering if Mustang really looks more alive than a second ago or if she's hallucinating. But then he stops laughing anyway, chucks down one more drink and leans back, eyes closed, sighing. "Just go home Fullmetal. You don't want to see this."

It is scientific curiosity that makes her want to find out what is wrong with Mustang. Nothing more. Ed hates him.

"See what? And I'm not going without the informations nor am I going when I'm being in your debt," she then states.

For a while Mustang doesn't move. Then he drags his hands down his face, leaving one to cover his eyes. For a moment a shiver runs through his body and he looks like he's fighting himself. But Ed must have imagined that, she blinks and he sits motionless again.

"Fine. Get over here," he then says.

The alcohol seems to start taking effect, his gaze isn't as sharp as usual when he finally lifts his hand from his eyes to look at her. Deposing the folder on the coffee table for the moment, she stands before him. Stands waiting for what he usually does. Waiting for him to grab her, press her down on the couch and take her roughly. But Mustang doesn't move.

Ah, yes, she is still wearing most of her clothes.

Shyness and shame have died long ago, when she undresses now there is only resignation. No fire, neither metaphorical nor real, warms her body as she stands there, naked and still waiting. Only now, with slight goosebumps rising on her skin, does she realise that the fireplace in the room is indeed empty. It has never been empty before, there was always a fire crackling there.

Turning back to Mustang she sees he has his head cocked to the side, looking thoughtfully at the arms she has subconsciously wrapped around herself. Not that the metal arm would keep the cool air at bay, it would actually suck even more warmth away from her body, but it is a reflex she can't stop unless she actively realises she is doing it.

And Mustang is looking at her arms in wonderment before bending forward and reaching under the couch. He pulls out one of his ignition gloves. Ed snatches it away before he can put it on.

"I won't let you play with fire when drunk!"

He has always been controlled. Rarely showed his anger through more than a displeased expression and a few stinging words. That's why the sudden rage twisting his face shocks her more than the slap that turns her head to the side.

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do!" Ripping the glove from her startled hands he pulls it on and snaps, the spark finding its destination as precisely as ever, a controlled fire roaring to life. Ed can only stare, still startled.

"I'd need more than the whole damn bottle to forget about _this_!" He rips the glove off and throws it to the other side of the room. And Ed has a feeling he wasn't talking about only the current situation. She frowns, this unusually explosive Mustang worries her. Not because she cares for him but simply because it makes the situation unpredictable.

The colonel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs at his temples. He takes a deep breath and his expression becomes unreadable once again. "This is a bad idea. Go home," he decides.

Yes, she really wants to strangle him. "I'm already naked, we might as well get it done!"

"Fullmetal, I'm tired and not in the mood."

"Yeah and I'm not in the mood to be indebted to you, so get it the fuck up and stuff it in, after that you can sit around and be useless as much as you want to!"

No reaction to the word useless. Just a deep, slow intake of breath and a clenched jaw, then he stands before her, his hands settling on her hips. Fingers slowly stroke up and down her sides and Ed doesn't know what to do.

This is something very new to her, her body has never been caressed before. Not by him, not anybody else. Her first time had been him lovelessly fucking her into the couch and all the other times had been the same. But now... now his hands are careful, tracing lines on her back, cupping her breasts, softly pinching the nipples. And then his lips, kissing the side of her neck...

Ed jumps and backs off, would have stumbled over and fallen onto the coffee table had Mustang's arms not been around her. "What are you doing?" Confusion makes her thoughts tumble around, turning her brain into a mess.

"I don't really know."

Ed blinks at the far too honest confession. Mustang looks just as confused as she does. Helpless even. He cocks his head to the side. "Maybe I'm drunk after all..." When Mustang lets go of Ed her skin feels strangely cold where his arms have been. "I just..." he trails off, schools his features into cool detachment again. Grabs her and throws her onto the couch as usual, but then falters, not pushing her legs apart to settle there. He just stands and stares. It makes Ed angry.

"Will you stop staring and hurry up!" She suppresses the urge to curl up under his strange gaze. Mustang doesn't undress himself. His eyes seem empty when he finally climbs onto the couch and between her legs. "I-..." But he doesn't continue, just closes his eyes and leans over her.

And again his hands and lips start exploring. Ed lies still, torn between telling him off or letting him continue, just for curiosities sake. "What-...?"

"Just let me do this!" He sounds pleading and desperate, startling Ed into submission. Something is wrong with Mustang but she doesn't know what. And she can't say it's bad because the administrations to her body would feel good if she were willing to accept them. She ponders if she should give in to this treatment that feels so much better than what she usually receives from him. But there is always the fact that this is a deal, a necessity and she can't discern if it would be okay to take pleasure from it. Her body is willing to receive these touches, but her soul can't yet decide. She doesn't want Mustang to be able to make her feel good. She hates him.

But then, why does she hate him?

She had always disliked him for being an arrogant jerk. But she only started to really hate him when he had first taken her, on this same couch. And it wasn't really because of this price she had to pay but because he had been so cold, didn't seem to treat her as another person. She is just warm flesh, just a toy. That's why she hates him.

Yet he is changing that now, is practically worshipping her body and she decides that maybe it is okay to give in, just this once. To feel good before she gets so used to just lying there and taking it that she would never feel pleasure from this. Before she would lose all interest in this activity that was said to be so exiting and wonderful.

So she stops questioning and takes it all in greedily.

His hands seem to be everywhere, sliding up and down her body, then halting to play with her breasts, thumbs circling the nipples. His lips are warm, sometimes ghosting over her skin as light as his fluttering breath, sometimes pressing down harder. He kisses, nibbles, sucks and licks, leaving hot trails and making her shiver all over.

Heat begins to spread inside of her and Ed can't help but tilt her head back and offer her neck to him. He takes the opportunity, makes the skin around her pulse tingle and treats her vulnerable throat with utmost care before moving up to nibble at her delicate jawline. Ed's breath hitches.

Suddenly the man above her his no more threat but something she wants to welcome.

When his mouth moves down the side of her neck and doesn't stop upon reaching the ugly automail scar, she can't help but gasp. The skin there always hurts a bit from the stress the metal puts on it but the touch of his lips is like a massage, relaxing and slowly but surely making her utter a low moan. Mustang moves to her collarbone, kisses around the screw that keeps the automail connected there, then moves over to the other side where no metal mares her body. Ed's back arches off the couch, her body wanting more of this wonderful feeling. Softly biting the collarbone once he encourages her even more, then moves down, his talented tongue finding pert nipples, swirling around the flesh nubs.

A shocked gasp leaves her lips and a surprisingly soft and calming "Shhhh" leaves his as one of his hands slips down, gently stroking the inside of her thighs. Ed's fear calms but her breathing still speeds up as the tickling sensation of Mustang's fingers crawls towards her most intimate place. Then one digit pushes in and it doesn't take long for Ed to be one panting and writhing mess.

Mustang has made her come before, every time actually, but it has never been like this. Ed doesn't know if it is something like a natural talent or if he has just done it often enough to pull all the right moves out of habit even when he doesn't care about her pleasure in the slightest. Whatever the reason, he had her coming every time. But now...

Now he is actually trying to make her feel good and damn she can feel the difference it makes because the waves of pleasure his touch has rolling over her are a tsunami compared to the usual ripples. Without her really thinking about it her hands reach out to him and she grabs the bathrobe he's still wearing, pulling him close. Mustang seems startled but doesn't stop her, instead he obediently leans in and Ed is surprised because usually he would keep a certain distance, reminding her he was the one in control.

In a split second Ed decides to make good use of his unusual compliance; she wants to know how it feels to participate in the action. Mustang has to pull his hand away from the wet place between her legs and Ed almost goes back on her decision to get the bathrobe off him, but then the piece of cloth is already gone and she can grab him by the white singlet he is still wearing and pull him back in. She has a firm hold on the light fabric, absent mindedly realising that she has never seen him without it before. Mustang without pants or underwear? Yes. But Mustang without some sort of shirt? Never.

It has never confused her before, she had just been happy that he didn't expect her to touch him, caress that firm chest. Now though she wonders why he keeps wearing shirts because now she wouldn't mind to let her hands wander over the expanse of strong muscles.

He sighs a soft sound of pleasure when she slips her hands underneath the fabric and as small as the sound is, it makes her breathing speed up. She isn't used to such soft, wanton sounds from him. The occasional groan she knows but mostly he has been silent, apart from his breathing becoming more and more heavy the closer he came to climax. But this little noise now sounded incredible good in Ed's ears.

Yet when she tries to pull the singlet up and off him he stops moving, pulling back and gripping the hem of the fabric hard to keep it down. "No." he hisses in a downright aggressive manner and Ed drops her hands to her sides, baffled as he starts shaking and grabs his head, hands curling to fists in his tousled hair. His eyes are closed now and he looks like he's in pain. But then it makes way for an almost pleading expression, yet Ed isn't sure if he's talking to her when he says "Just let me show you something!"

She wants to ask what is going on but then his hands untangle from his hair and he gently strokes her thighs to the left and right of his kneeling form. Thick, dark lashes flutter and then he's looking at her with eyes that seem dead yet at the same time more alive than ever. Like the soul inhabiting those eyes is far away but definitely not gone. His expression is just as confusing, he looks like he's sorry for something yet is happy at the same time, a mix that results in an odd kind of sadness.

Then Mustang leans forward, down and close to Ed again. His touch is a gentle caress and this time Ed is sure that it is loving.

Oh, the other touches she has received today have been more for her benefit than his as well, but they were still only based on meaningless pleasure for the body. But now he seems to touch the flesh to reach her soul. His gaze follows his hand as it wanders over her body, emotion flickering in the back of those seemingly empty orbs. She can even see concern when his fingertips hoover over a scar and then he bends over and kisses it like mothers or some lovers do to make it better.

Ed blinks, trying to make sure that he is no hallucination.

She has always wondered why Mustang's subordinates follow him so loyally. Al had told her how Hawkeye had cried when she had thought the colonel dead and if it hadn't been Al who told her Ed might have questioned the truth of that story. She had sometimes thought she had seen glimpses of a human being capable of compassion and care underneath the exterior she had come to hate but those glimpses became rare with time. First she was wondering if it was just her losing her faith in mankind but then lately even those trusted subordinates had started to frown at Mustang and she wondered if maybe it was _him_ losing faith and becoming like those he wanted to kick off the throne to do better. And then he had roped her into their deal and she had stopped caring in favour for simply hating that damn womaniser who wouldn't even stop shoving her onto his couch when he started having a different date for every single day of the week.

But now she can see there is a soul full of emotions locked away in there and that soul is leading his gentle caress now, trying to make her feel good in more ways than simply plain sexual. Tender lips kiss her skin, and Ed breathes slowly, relishing the feeling, thinking she can wonder about the reasons later when this probably one of a kind evening is over. Then those lips meet her mouth and Ed flinches in surprise.

Mustang pulls back immediately. He closes his eyes and lowers his head, his bangs shadowing his face. Though they don't hide his mouth and Ed can see him bite his lip. A tremble runs through his body, he swallows and his head lowers even more. It looks a bit like he is trying not to cry, but not quite the same.

But then he's back to caressing her and Ed feels like she is something fragile. When he finally settles between her legs he is careful about where he places his weight and buries his face in her neck. He takes a deep breath, then he shoves his boxers out of the way.

They had never used a condom. Mustang said he was clean and he couldn't reproduce. Ed hadn't bothered to ask why, just believed him for the simple reason that she didn't think Mustang would be stupid enough to get infected with some illness or knock up the most useful subordinate in his thrive for promotions.

The intrusion is much more pleasant than normally when he just jumps at her the moment she is undressed. He starts to move slowly and Ed can feel his arms slipping underneath her body, pulling her closer to him, something he has never done before. It feels like she is wanted and needed and not just a tool and it makes her happy. Wrapping her arms around his broader frame she tries to show him that it's good, hoping he might remember and treat her like this more often.

Mustang stops and looks at her, surprised but with something akin to hope somewhere deep in those dark eyes. When he kisses her this time she doesn't flinch, she kisses back. He is even more shy than she is, wary that she might pull back again if he goes too fast. Though Ed only hesitates because she has never kissed someone like this, has never done more than a peck on the cheek. But when Mustang slowly increases the movement of his hips and Ed gasps he takes a chance and slips in his tongue.

They don't have much time for Ed to learn about french kisses though, they need too much air, both of them panting as they near climax. Ed has her head thrown back and can barely keep herself from getting loud, her hands clutching at Mustang who is still holding her close, his hot breath on her shoulder making her automail scar tingle pleasantly.

She grabs him tightly when she finally can't hold back anymore. "Mustang, I-" and then the pleasure explodes inside of her and she knows she has taken him over the edge with her when he utters the most delicious sound she's ever heard and slowly ceases to move.

They lie in a panting heap for a while, then he pulls back and just looks at her for a moment. His eyes have that unreadable expression again that she knows from previous encounters and she is sad that the caring Mustang is gone again. But suddenly something flickers in his gaze and a second later he presses a chaste but lingering kiss to her lips. Then he retreats completely, pulls his boxers back on and sits at the far end of the couch, legs drawn to his chest.

Ed is confused. That last kiss had felt so important, was filled with so much emotions she can't name but knows are precious. She slowly sits up, still looking at him, not sure what to do. The colonel is staring into the air, thoughtful.

"You are free to go," he then says absent mindedly. "You've paid the price."

Ed watches him the whole time while putting her clothes back on, even pulls her top over her head faster than usual. Something about Mustang is creepy. She decides that it's maybe just him being drunk that makes him so weird. In _his_ head his behaviour today probably makes perfectly sense.

And Ed still can't stop wanting to know what's up with him. Only remembering that she hates him holds her back.

But then, is hating someone a reason to deny them help? Help that maybe would even help them to realise their mistakes and to redeem themselves? And is he even still the Mustang that deserves her hatred or has something changed now and only needs a little push in the right direction? Ed doesn't realise that she has already put her clothes completely back on until he looks at her. "Still here?"

"Obviously," she says, though without real bite.

He cocks is head to the side. "You're weird today."

Ed snorts. "You're one to talk!"

Mustang huffs a laugh, then looks away and starts to stare into the air again. "Go home, Fullmetal." He sounds tired.

Ed looks at him. Today he has not only taken from her, no, today he seems to have given her as much as he could, and she doesn't mean the folder full of information. It's like he has tried to show her how sex is supposed to be, tried to show her the difference between making love and what he usually does to her. She doesn't know why but he has done it, has awkwardly tried to be good to her. He has never been sadistic towards her or otherwise bad but he had never really cared either. Yet today he had poured that soul hidden away in the back of his eyes into every move.

And she can't just leave him sitting curled up on the couch after that.

But how is she supposed to find out how to help him?

She stands before him, hands on her hips. "Look at me."

He turns his head away, focuses on the weapon still placed on the coffee table. "Go home."

She blinks. Then her temper gets the better of her and she just grabs his chin and pushes it up so she can look him in the eyes. He pulls away immediately. "Don't touch me!"

"Just a minute ago you didn't seem to mind the contact!" she yells at him, frustrated by her confusion.

"I always mind!" he suddenly yells back before hunching over, hands pressed to the sides of his head like he's trying to simultaneously block out an annoying sound and massage a headache away. A violent shiver runs through his body. "I always mind, but I can't stop it!"

Ed stares at the shivering mess sitting there on the couch. This is so much not the overconfident Roy Mustang she knows that she feels like she's caught up in a bizarre dream. Maybe a nightmare.

"I'm trying!" he continues, voice weak, fingers digging into his skull "But all I can do is damage control..." Suddenly he slumps, all energy leaving him, and even the shaking subsides. "I'm not strong enough to get it out of me. All I can do is compromise. I'm sorry."

He's still now. Apart from breathing he doesn't move. Ed tries to make sense of him but she feels like she can't unless she knows everything. "Get _what_ out of you?" she asks. He doesn't react so she grabs him by the shoulders and shakes. For a moment he remains limp, body swaying lifelessly in her grip. Then he snarls and harshly pushes her away.

Edeline stumbles backwards yet before she can crash into the glass surface of the coffee table the fall is stopped with a jerk at her automail arm. A slow tearing sound directs her gaze to where the cloth of Mustang's singlet has snagged in the joints of her automail fingers when she instinctively grasped at the shoulders she'd been shaking when getting pushed. But the shoulder strap of that thin undershirt wasn't made to hold Ed's weight like this and with the edge of the metal joints sawing into the cloth it now starts to rip apart completely. _Riiitsh_ and then it's gone.

And Ed doesn't bother with getting into a more comfortable position than lying halfway on the coffee table because now she can finally see what the problem with Mustang is.

He hasn't realised it yet, he is shaking again, staring down at his hands like you do when you did something you didn't want to do. Only when he looks at her and sees that she's staring at his chest does he glance down as well and sees what she sees.

There's an Oroboros Tattoo on his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**And here we are my dear readers, have fun :) After this one there is only one more Chapter to go...^^**

 **And please don't forget to tell me what you think of this ;3**

 **Chapter 2**

There's an Oroboros Tattoo on his chest.

It's edge peeks out from underneath the torn singlet and it only takes a second for Ed to get back on her feet and press him down so she can tear the rest of the cloth away, still hoping she might be wrong. But there it is, a dragon eating its own tail. It's placed right above his heart and it's paler than the tattoos she's seen on the other homunculi, but it's there none the less.

Angry and confused at the same time she wants to demand an explanation but when she looks at his face she can see the reason why Mustang hasn't tried to fight her off yet. He's white as a sheet, breathing shallow and fast, eyes tightly shut. When those thick lashes part again after all they reveal purple irises to the dim light in the room and Ed is actually scared. Not because of the homunculus but because of how close it had been to her and Mustang's team all along without them ever realising.

"Run!", Mustang breathes, pressing those shocking eyes closed again. "Please run, I can't keep it-"

And then he screams.

It's a horrible sound, something Ed has never thought she'd hear coming from the colonel. She has to let go of him when his muscles convulse with incredible force and he curls up into a tight ball before stretching again, falling off the couch in the process. Ed steps back, then pulls the damn coffee table out of the way so he won't smack his head on its feet when he trashes around. It looks like he's fighting himself but Ed now knows that the homunculus in his body is his enemy.

Finally the trashing subsides and all that's left is a shivering body on the floor, pale and sweating and barely breathing. Should she stay away from him? Ed is pretty sure the answer is yes but she can't stop herself from cautiously crouching down next to him. "Mustang?"

Purple eyes snap open and one arm leashes out. But then black takes over those eyes again and the other arm presses the attacking limb down against the tattooed chest.

"Fullmetal you idiot! Get away before it kills you!" Mustang tries to snap though his voice is too hoarse to properly yell.

"Like I'm leaving you knowing that a homunculus is trying to take you over!" she yells back, her voice not doing fine either. It's high pitched and panicked.

The colonel tries to speak again but only makes a choking sound and Ed's eyes widen when he digs unusually pointy fingernails into is own chest, clawing at the tattoo like that would make it go away.

"Stop that!" she grabs his hand to pull it away and he latches on to hers immediately, though she's not sure if it's really him seeking reassurance or if the homunculus wants to keep her around to kill her for finding out. It doesn't matter anyway, just as long as he won't start digging for his heart again. So Ed squeezes his hand once, his blood warm against her skin when he squeezes back.

"T- tie me up if you won't leave!" He can barely get it out, his grip on her hand turning almost painful when his body convulses once more. Then he lets go of her in favour of curling up again, trying to keep himself together when the fighting homunculus makes him twitch and leash out at Ed. The blonde considers transmuting the floor around him but then makes a dash for the white belt still hanging over the back of the couch. When she turns around again Mustang is standing right behind her, arm stretched out for her neck.

The veins underneath the skin of the arm that's torn between following the wishes of two minds are standing out and the muscles are cramping and twitching in turn. For a moment Ed forgets about her life being in danger and wonders if that will leave permanent damage to the limb but then reflex has her punch the colonel and knock him down.

It's a very tight fit and she wouldn't have managed had Mustang not gone back to being alarmingly limp and short of breath but she can press his arms against his sides and buckle the belt around his hips and wrists to keep them there. Her own belt around his ankles and he's not as immobilized as would probably be necessary but she doesn't know if he'll tear all his muscles and maybe organs if she bound him more tightly when he had those fits. Just when she thinks that his body convulses once more, his back arching until she fears for his spine to snap. Then he turns back to twitching and shivering, his bangs clinging to his sweaty forehead. In a sudden notion she reaches out, pushes the wet hair aside and feels a temperature that is far too high to be healthy. Hand moving down to his neck she finds his heartbeat is no better, it's hammering too fast and misses a beat every once in a while.

It's surprising how much Mustang's breathing calms though when she absent-mindedly strokes his hair while thinking about what the fuck she should do right now. But she's even more surprised to realise that she had the urge to pat his head, be it subconsciously or not.

Getting back on her feet Ed makes out the telephone on the desk in the corner of the room and stepping on various papers and Mustang's uniform she hurries over there. She doesn't know if Mustang has emergency contacts, she calls the only number she knows that the colonel would trust. And even though Ed sometimes thought that her life would have gone much better had she not been a genius, right now she is very grateful for having the brain capacity to remember Hawkeye's number even though she only ever saw it once. The lieutenant picks up surprisingly fast.

"Something's wrong with Mustang, you need to come here!"

"Edeline? Where are you?"

"At his house."

"Is he hurt?" There, that fear for Mustang that Ed had never understood until he had kissed her so tenderly.

"Kind of, I can't explain. Just hurry!"

Hawkeye doesn't reply, she just hangs up and knocks on the door maybe ten minutes later. Ed is sitting next to Mustang on the floor, stroking his hair again simply because it calms her too. She stumbles over her own feet and nearly falls when she jumps up to run and open the door for the reliable lieutenant. The hawk's eye follows her into the living room quickly, kneeling down next to their commanding officer.

"Why is he tied u- Isn't this...?" She reaches out to touch the now rather bloody Oroborus and Ed nods.

"There's a homunculus inside of him," the younger blonde supplies.

"So that's why he's been so... different." Hawkeye sounds relieved, so very happy that Mustang is still the same, not evil himself but only possessed by evil. "Can we do something about it?"

"I don't know." Ed hates it when all the knowledge she's gathered during the years as military dog once again isn't enough. Not enough to save Al, not enough to save Nina, not enough to save Mustang. Never enough. She clenches her hands to fists in anger. Head lowering she sees that Mustang is looking up at her from the floor, eyes so clouded that the black has nearly turned grey. But there is still focus there because he shakes his head ever so slightly. "Not your fault," he whispers. "'M sorry." His eyes fall close again and Ed notices hat shadows have started to surround them, like he hasn't slept in days.

"We need some sort of doctor," Ed decides.

"Isn't a homunculus able to heal itself?" Hawkeye asks, trying to stay professional.

"He's suppressing it. Has been the whole time. I guess if it can't properly take over the body then it can't properly heal it," she explains and pulls her hand back that had been about to gently touch those closed eyes.

"But it still influences him..."

"He said something about damage control... a compromise. I'm guessing he can't fully suppress it and it can't fully take him over." She wraps her arms around herself, remembering all the times on the couch that weren't as good as today. "I think it takes his natural desires and enhances those it needs or wants to its advantage. That's why in those cases he can't completely stop it. All he can do is... damage control."

"Is that possible?"

"I don't know. But I was once told that nothing is impossible by one of those same creatures."

Mustang utters a pain-filled sound and curls up again. It's obvious he wants to wrap his arms around himself, but the white belt sits tight and the colonel gives up and continues shivering with his arms by his sides.

Crying out he wants to struggle when Breda and Falman try to lift him up so they can carry him to the car. Hawkeye has called them over, Fuery is awake and somewhere out in the night too, doing whatever the lieutenant has told him to do. Ed didn't listen.

The youngest amongst all the people currently in the house stands around somewhat useless, simply because she doesn't know what to to. She watches as black eyes turn purple again and the struggle out of pain turns into a struggle out of vicious anger and the desire to kill. The soldiers are shocked, but so is Mustang the moment he manages to knock Falman to the ground. His eyes are black again, wide and horrified and Ed knows that she can't hate him anymore. She knows that _he_ was never the one to push her into the couch and treat her like soulless flesh. No, he is the one who tried to make up for it tonight.

It's why she climbs into the back seat of the car, making Falman who was supposed to sit there and help keep their commander still take the passenger seat. No one argues because when Ed wraps an arm around Mustang's shoulder to keep him still the colonel blindly turns towards her and slumps against her side. His weight is a bit smothering and Ed starts sweating because he's burning up. But he is motionless, resting, trusting. During the whole bumpy ride his hot breath flutters against her neck in an alarmingly uneven pattern and Ed wonders how long he's still going to make it at this rate. She holds him tighter despite the uncomfortable weight and temperature, the man's breath hitches and a shudder runs through him though Ed ignores him hoarsely telling her to run. If he managed to attack now there would be nowhere to run anyway, not in the car, even if Ed wanted to run.

But as it is she doesn't want to run and he gives up trying to convince her soon. Yet Ed is fairly certain it's only because he is too busy with hyperventilating. She has never before talked so much calming nonsense at once and maybe she should just shut up because it doesn't seem to help anyway; Mustang's breathing is still too hectic, he's hunching forward and stares into nothingness with wide eyes. Yet Ed can't stop, she can't stand seeing someone suffer and Mustang looks like he's having a nightmare while being awake. Finally she just grabs his face between both hands and turns him to look him in the eyes.

The first one to recognise her is the homunculus, the dull eyes turning sharp and purple.

"I don't want you," she tells the creature, ghost, whatever it is in this state. Ed doesn't know nor does she care. The homunculus looks angry.

But then the body trashes, as much as it is able to when tied up and sandwiched between Ed and Breda on the back seat of a car, until it's rightful owner takes control again. Black eyes lock on Ed's and she nods. "You're okay, you can stay." she says with a grin.

Mustang blinks, then manages a feeble smirk. But then he sways in his seat and slumps against Ed once more, his eyes only half lidded and his breathing back to the unsteady fluttering from the beginning of the car ride.

Said car ride now ends as Hawkeye, who's been driving as fast as she safely could, finally steps on the breaks and stops the vehicle in front of some seemingly uninhabited house that Ed would call random if she wasn't so sure that the man who's currently helplessly leaning against her is paranoid enough to have a safe house here at the outskirts of Central. So they stop at that not-random house and bring the colonel inside while another car pulls up, bringing Fuery and a disgruntled Doctor Knox. Ed isn't sure whether she's relieved or worried that Mustang doesn't struggle this time when they move him.

They take away the dusty blanket covering it and place Mustang on an old bed in one of the rooms. Knox, brought in by Fuery, asks just why the hell they called him out here, why they didn't just bring Mustang to a normal doctor or the hospital and Hawkeye explains to him the nature of the problem. The old coroner groans and complains about being dragged into some fine mess but begins to check Mustang over nonetheless. Ed is deep in thought, trying to think of something to help get rid of the homunculus, until the doctor says "That temperature is going to kill him soon."

She stares at Knox like the others do, not wanting to believe. He continues, wiping the dried blood off Mustang's chest as he speaks. "The mind has a certain influence on the body. For example children can get ill to draw their parent's attention and make them forget about the fight they're having. It's not a conscious decision, one could say it's just the stress that seeing their parent's fight hard and often and ignore them is putting on them that makes their system go sick. This fever of the colonel seems something similar to me. I'm guessing that he wants to get rid of that, how'd ya call it, homunculus? So badly that the stress it causes him forces his body to react. It treats the homunculus like an illness that needs to be fought off with a fever. Unfortunately that thing doesn't seem to be like bacteria and the likes, making him burn up himself."

"Oh yes, I'm gonna take him with me!"

They all flinch and jump, staring at Mustang who isn't Mustang anymore. There's a crazy grin on those features and the eyes are wide and purple as the creature currently in posses of the colonel's vocal cords laughs hysterically. At first Ed thinks that it is only madness, but then she realises that it is also pain that contorts the grin so violently. It seems the homunculus is suffering from Mustang's defiance, feeling all the pain of the body it currently clings to but not able to do something about it because it doesn't fully own the flesh shell. "That liar, he will perish, I'll punish him for lying!" There's foam in the corners of his mouth now.

"You have no right to punish him, you're stealing _his_ body and have corrupted _his_ mind!" Ed is clenching her fists, wanting to punch that creature but holding back because yes, that body belongs to someone else!

Purple eyes turn to her her, eyelids falling half closed in a lascivious way she's sure she's seen before somewhere. "Ohhh you care? And here I thought you started hating him! The look you gave him every time I crushed his resistance and had him jump you... You humans are so weak, calling me a sin but giving in to me so easily, like in truth you _want_ it!" It laughed once more.

"I really doubt he wanted that!" She remembers loving touches, remembers pleas for her to run being breathlessly whispered to her in the back of the car.

"You're right. "The creature makes his face look thoughtful. "He never wanted raw pleasure, stupid human, I don't understand him. I tried to show him our coexistence could be so nice and pleasant but he was never happy with all those girls. Said there was something missing that I wouldn't understand..." And suddenly the expression turns angry "And then he promises me to explain and show me but as soon as I give him one more inch of control he tries to take it back completely! I hate overconfident people! I hate-"

And the sentence runs out in a scream and those eyes turn black again. Clouded and unfocused but thankfully black. A familiar smirk makes it onto that far too pale and sweaty face and Mustang breathes "And I hate bitchy homunculi!" Not one second later the smirk falls though and he looks like he's caught up in a nightmare and can't wake up.

"Is there some sort of transmutation to pull that thing out of him?" Hawkeye asks Ed, a quite unusual expression on her face as she does so. Fear, Hawkeye is scared.

"I don't know." Ed answers, looking down at the man she would have never thought she'd be worried about again.

"Well, hurry up thinking, he won't make it much longer like this. That thing just now broke through long enough to have a conversation with us, I don't think he can keep it under check for any more time." Knox says.

Fuery comes in with an old bucket filled with surprisingly clear water and a rag. The young sergeant wrings out some of the water in the cloth and then swallows, obviously wanting to help but not quite sure if it is his place to do this. It doesn't matter because Ed would have snatched away the wet rag anyway. She carefully lays it on Mustang's forehead, watching as his features instantly relax a bit. It's almost too quiet to be understood but a "thank you" leaves from between his lips together with his breath.

For a moment Ed panics and thinks this is it but then he takes in another rattling breath, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. He frowns, lips pressing into a thin line. "Ed, get Alphonse!" he then demands.

"What! Why?!"

"Use us up."

Some of the room's occupants stare, not understanding, but Ed knows exactly what Mustang means.

"I can't, I can't use you!" How could he even think that! She and Al would never take lives!

"I don't know how else to kill this thing!" Ed has never heard him so defeated before. "The stone doesn't fade, it-!"

"I will posses you! Kill him and it will be you!" Purple eyes laugh at them. "I'm not Greed, I don't know much about that sin but I know you humans are too greedy to offer up your own happiness for someone else!"

Ed stares. It's not _her_ happiness she's worried about, it's Al's, she has Al to care about, she can't risk getting possessed, there must be another way!

"How about I proof you wrong and you take _my_ body?" Hawkeye calmly states. There is fear in her brown eyes but she stands her ground.

"No! Hawkeye, no one should be possessed, we need to find another way, I'm sure we will!" Frantic thoughts run through Ed's mind, alchemical theories tumbling around in a chaos very unusual for the young prodigy's mind.

"This is killing him!" Hawkeye yells in a just as unusual outburst.

And indeed, it is. Ed looks down at his pale skin, the only colour is the red the fever paints on his cheeks and the darkness of the circles underneath his eyes. Mustang's eyes are closed again and Ed can't tell if it's currently him or the homunculus in control of that body but both suffer from Mustang's unwillingness to relinquish his hold on his flesh and blood vessel. One is exhausted from fighting the other off, the other is exhausted from clinging to the foreign body, neither can keep the precious shell in a good condition. If nothing is done Mustang's soul and body will die and the homunculus parasite will latch onto the next person.

Her thought process is interrupted when Mustang groans and tries to roll over. Immediately Breda and Falman reach out to hold him down as he is. They obviously thought the homunculus was trying to flee but soon there's a gurgling sound and it's pretty clear that Mustang is throwing up. They roll him over, his head hanging over the side of the bed as he retches. What hit's the water in the bucket fast thinking Fuery placed in the right spot is red. Deep red blood.

"Shit," says Knox, because it isn't exactly a small amount and Mustang isn't about to stop. Pale as a sheet and sweating he brings up what is at least half a litre. Then dry heaves before proceeding to puke more blood. Fuery runs for another bucket.

He returns with an old, rusty one that has a hole and hands it to Ed. She absent mindedly claps her hands and fixes it before setting about switching it with the other one that would be full soon if Mustang kept going like this. And stops. Because at the bottom of the bucket filled with the pale pink mixture of blood and water is something small and round. Like a pearl. But she knows it isn't.

"He's throwing it up," she states, oddly numb yet filled with a strange curiosity about how Mustang's body is getting rid of the homunculus.

"What?!" more than one voice asks.

She points at the bucket where the tiny stone is continuously growing. They step closer and stare in awe.

"That homunculus had a philosophers stone at it's core..." Hawkeye mumbled. "But he killed it and it dissolved..."

"It-..." Mustang manages through grit teeth, "Did dissolve but-... didn't vanish. Latched onto me. Got in through the wound, got in my bloodstrea-" He can't finish the explanation, he's throwing up blood again.

"So if you lose blood-" Ed starts.

"Then he'll die of blood loss, that doesn't help us, even if it gets rid of the thing," Knox interrupts. And he's right, even if Mustang can get rid of the homunculus, like this it won't save him anyway. He'll die.

"Oi, what's your blood type!" the man then wants to know. Ed can see how under his harsh attitude his mind is running quick, thinking about how to safe the colonel.

"Ze-zero." Mustang chokes out. "Positive."

"So is any of you zero?" the coroner asks the others.

"I'm A." Fuery says it like it's a bad thing and his fault and Ed can relate because right now she really wishes she wasn't B.

"I'm zero," Breda says.

"Then your colonel might be lucky." And Knox starts digging though the bag he brought.

Ed switches the bucket because Mustang has yet to stop puking blood. The man looks like he's about to pass out soon, feverish and exhausted. He's barely heaving anymore, mostly he just hangs his head and the blood keeps running, dripping from his lips.

Still, Ed has to bring it up. "What if it jumps onto Breda?"

Knox, who's handling a tube and needle, looks at Breda who's removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeve. The soldier shrugs. "Worth the risk. The Colonel would do the same."

"Jus' five min's," Mustang slurs, spitting out a red blotch. "Wait anotha five."

"That'll most likely kill you."

"If it-" he coughs, "gets Breda I'll die anyway."

"But sir-"

"We're not taking that risk." It's amazing how even when hanging over the bed side, pale, sweaty, wearing nothing but boxers and a torn undershirt and with blood dripping from his mouth, Mustang can still snap in a tone so authoritative it has Breda shut up and quenches any more protest. Their commander has spoken. But that's not why they slow down in their preparation for the blood transfer. It's because they know that he'll be incredible stubborn and do all he can so that needle won't get into his blood stream before he's sure all of that homunculus is in the bucket.

And so they watch as he pants and retches and sometimes falls limp. They're anxious and scared and don't really know how to help him feel better but their presence alone seems to be enough because sometimes Mustang would look around from underneath sweat soaked bangs and clouded eyes would survey the place like he was seeing if they're still there and every time he got that confirmation his tense frame would relax some again and a small smile would be there before the next surge of blood came up.

And then his body finally slumps completely and he whispers a barely audible "'Kay" before passing out.


	3. Chapter 3

**And here goes the last chapter. I am not entirely happy with it but then I never am, I always hate my endings. So feel free to bash it, maybe in a review? ;3**

 **Chapter 3**

And then Mustang's body finally slumps completely and he whispers a barely audible "'Kay" before passing out.

It is a busy rustle that follows. Hawkeye puts the buckets to the far corner of the room, Ed transmuting the top shut with some spare metal. They don't know if that will help keep the two little pearls of red stone in there but it is worth the try. Fuery and Falman turn Mustang over on his back and release him from his binds. Knox checks if the colonel's air ways are free before hooking up the patiently waiting Breda.

"We still need to get him to the hospital," the old coroner says.

"How do we explain his condition?"

"We don't. _We_ don't even know how he was able to throw up almost all of his blood, let the docs figure it out and treat it. There have been enough unexplainable medical conditions before, one more won't make a difference."

Hawkeye nods at the answer she got.

They keep waiting for a bit. Mustang doesn't wake up again and Breda starts getting tired. Finally Knox declares they've reached the point where Mustang has enough blood to make it to the hospital and Breda can't give any more without getting into dangerous condition himself. They load everyone into the cars and speed through the night, the golden lining of dawn coming up at the horizon not giving any hope at all.

Mustang is wheeled away by hectic nurses and someone comes to check on Breda, telling the Second Lieutenant and Dr. Knox how well they acted and that they saved the colonel's live like they didn't know that. The others receive praise as well but no one in the group feels like a hero. All they feel is anxiety and the need to discuss the homunculus problem, but they first want to know if their colonel will make it so they keep their mouth shut and fidget in the hospital waiting room. Breda is eating, for once only because he was told to do so to regain strength, he has no appetite at all. Fuery is nervously cleaning his glasses over and over again. Hawkeye seems to be calm but her knuckles are pale as she clenches her hands to fists far too hard. Knox furiously chews on a tooth pick he got from who knows where. Falman seems like he wants to pace the room but is too stoic to give in to that desire.

Ed on her part is pacing the room, up and down as her thoughts run wild. She's worried because of the homunculus still in the bucket at the old house, but she doubts it's strong enough to take on form or attempt anything else. She knows which sin it is and that leads her brain to all the horrible Saturday nights at Mustang's place. And then finally that last one.

She has the urge to touch her skin where he did, trail the paths his fingers had taken. Just to make sure she had felt that right, because it still seems so surreal. Because even if the rational side of her now knows that it had never been Mustang himself who'd treated her like a doll, every other part of her is surprised and can't believe that the man who had taken so much from her was able to be so gentle, so... caring.

Hawkeye taps her shoulder to get her attention and only now does Ed realise that she's been staring at her fingers, which are still stained with his blood from when she'd stopped him from clawing at the oroboros tattoo. The Lieutenant beckons for her to follow and the younger blonde docilely walks after the older to the women's rest room. They clean up but when finished Hawkeye checks the stalls for occupants instead of leading the way back. When no one's there she takes a deep breath and seemingly collects her thoughts before finally speaking.

"That... thing said something about crushing his resistance and making him... jump you. Does that-... how-... why did you never tell, we could've helped!"

"It was an equivalent exchange, a deal I willingly entered." Not really, there was never a choice for her when it came to saving Al, she'd always give **everything** for him. And Hawkeye seems to read these thoughts right though her grim face. Yet the sniper doesn't comment on it and Ed knows it's only because Hawkeye is the same, would give everything to save Mustang. So Hawkeye ceases her lecture and instead asks "Are you... alright?"

Ed shrugs."Nothing I can't handle."

"If you ever need to talk I'll listen." Hawkeye knows she'll only make Ed snap at her and run away if she keeps digging.

Ed gives her the best smile she can muster up at the moment. "Don't worry too much. He's never been too bad."

Upon back in the waiting room soon a doctor arrives, telling them that while the colonel still isn't a hundred percent out of danger they have him stable so far. It seems the blood loss is the most problematic factor, the reason for it a case of bleeding oesophageal varices, or at least that's what they believe comes closest to Mustang's condition. The doctor isn't too proud to admit that they've never seen this exact condition before nor do they know how to treat it other than do what they'd do to fix the closest familiar problem.

Anyway, the veins in Mustang's oesophagus, that seemed to have ruptured from a sudden and dramatic rise in blood pressure, seem about to heal just fine and that's what counts more for them all than a perfect diagnosis would.

Knox nods and leaves, saying Mustang owes him. The rest of them finally gets to see their commanding officer, though they're only allowed in in small groups. Which, in this case, means pairs. So while Hawkeye and Fuery, and after that Breda and Falman, check up on their leader Ed goes to call Al.

The blonde fiddles with the phone cord during her little brother's lecture, which is laced with worry about her more than with anger, and wryly huffs to herself when Al worries about the colonel, too. The younger Elric would kill Mustang if he knew what else had happened this Saturday evening and so many Saturday evenings before, homunculi in control or not wouldn't matter during that moment of rage. She makes a mental note to tell the others to keep their mouth shut. Finally, Al tells her he'll come get her and Ed hangs up.

She slowly steps into the colonel's room, barely daring to make a sound. Even breathing seems too loud when the person on the bed in front of her seems so fragile. Pale as a sheet, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. A blood transfusion is still going on. He looks damn vulnerable and it disturbs her even more than the sides she believed to have seen on him when the homunculus was still in control. Imagining Roy Mustang as a total and real asshole seems so easy yet she's never been able to imagine him weak.

But then he _is_ human and humans are weak at times.

Careful, though she's not sure if she doesn't want to hurt him or if she just doesn't want to wake him, Ed pulls back the thin blanket. Human, yes. The oroboros is gone. All that's left are the scratches from his fingernails, perfect symbols for all the wounds the homunculus left behind. She wonders if there will be permanent scars. Probably not, Mustang seems to have good healing flesh because what's left of the burnt shut stab wound in his side doesn't look too gruesome anymore either. Though maybe it is the homunculus after all who's responsible for the doctor's surprise upon finding that severe wound almost completely healed into smooth white scar tissue.

Ed dimly wonders if, had it been really been Mustang fucking her into the couch, the colonel would've maybe kept to wearing some sort of top, too. She's never thought about it before, her own scars made her unafraid of other's. But vain Mustang? When taking one of his girls to bed that wasn't hardened like her? She doesn't want to think about all that but the thought is still there. Mainly because she now realises that he'd never ever shied away from her scars, not even the ugly automail ones. Either Lust had been too blind to care about its plaything being a bit damaged or he wasn't as superficial as she'd always thought.

Ed frowns. Being so busy hating him over that deal she'd never realised that he'd done something she'd always secretly feared no one would ever be able to do. He'd touched her without fear and disgust. Even during that last night where he had been the leading force, the homunculus lengthening his leash a bit to see what Mustang would try to teach to it. He had done it and it had been honest.

There's a quiet knock at the door and Ed pulls the blanked back up. It's Al who's come to collect her. At the thought of going back to their room she suddenly realises how tired she is. No sleep and lots of action during the night, she really should lie down and have a nap. Maybe when she wakes up again the world isn't this confusing anymore and she can finally tell what exactly she's feeling.

The phone rings, Al answers while Ed curses the device and wipes the sleep from her eyes. Apparently the call is for her so she takes the earpiece with a grunt. It's Hawkeye, apologising for not letting her rest that much and asking what to do about the ruby pearl earrings she found at her place yesterday. Ed sighs. She doesn't know either but just as coded she promises to come by and help.

They are standing in front of the two buckets for a while. Finally Ed shrugs and steps up to open the first. The red gleam in the midst of too much dried blood is tempting, it calls to be picked up. The alchemist resists, knowing Al wouldn't accept other's lives and souls in exchange for his body and neither would she. She transmutes the lid shut again, then looks after the other stone. This one is glinting at her from the a water blood mixture but that doesn't make it any more desirable so she resists this one as well.

"They're still there. I think as long as we can keep them separate and hidden we'll be fine until we can think of the best way to deal with it."

"Alright. Maybe the Colonel knows a bit more about it now that the thing's been inside of his head," Hawkeye offers.

"Is he awake yet?" asks Al.

"He came by a few times but they said visitors will have to wait until noon or they will just tire him out and that doesn't help."

And so Ed finds herself walking down the hospital hallway later that day. She doesn't know why she wants this so she pretends it's only because of scientific questions regarding the homunculus. There's a turmoil inside of her. One part of her doesn't want to see Mustang at all because there are still those bits of unjustified hatred and also it would be so damn _awkward_ , talking to his real self that had never wanted what they did. She's torn between being ashamed because he knows she would sell her body to him and being stubborn and unafraid because it was all for Al, her sweet little brother who deserves so much more than she could give. But the other part knows this is _Mustang._ A smug jerk, sure, but also the one who gave them a chance, the one who keeps pulling more strings for them than he has to, even if he makes it all seem like selfishness. Mustang who knows about equivalent exchange and sacrifice and probably won't judge her after all.

So Ed takes a deep breath and enters the room the nurse showed her to.

Mustang is sitting up, his back heavily leaning against a pillow. His unseeing gaze is turned towards the window and Ed knows this look, it's the same that she must have worn back then in Resembool, before he came and grabbed her freshly crippled form by the collar to yelled at her, asking what the hell she had done in that basement. She's still more than grateful he burst into her bubble of desperation like this and made her listen to what he was suggesting. And she wants to return that favour despite everything, the roots of equivalent exchange are twined through the alchemist's mind.

But it seems Mustang isn't as far gone as she was, upon hearing Ed enter he turns. First his eyes widen, then they lower in shame and his whole form seems to slump a little. He swallows once but otherwise he doesn't move when Ed carefully sits in the plastic chair next to the bed. So they sit in silence for a while because Ed doesn't know how to act either.

"I'm sorry." It's Mustang who speaks up first, his voice quiet and his head lowering even more. "I never wanted to- I would have never- I just couldn't stop it, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop it." He looks at her from between his bangs, waiting for his verdict.

For a moment Ed wants to yell at him, ask him how he could have been that weak. But she can't. Not when she doesn't know how a homunculus inside your head feels and how strong it can be. Not when she is probably just as much to blame as said creature. So she says "It's okay. It's not like I didn't agree to that deal."

He shakes his head. It seems like he wants to say something, he opens his mouth but then closes it again, stopping to put his priorities in a different order. Finally, with that calming streak of authority she knows so well from hearing Colonel Mustang bark orders at his loyal dogs, he asks "Where is that _thing_ now?"

"Still in the house, still in the buckets. We haven't decided on what to do yet, we thought it might be a good idea to ask you first, maybe you know more about it now." It's amazing how easy it is to go into work mode with him, to function like superior officer and subordinate is all they are. This ability to mask up and believe in what they are playing has brought them through the months without their deal ever being discovered and now it helps them solve the main problem, called homunculus. Personal problems can wait until they can crawl somewhere to hide, where no one would see their weaknesses.

"It's too weak to take on a physical form on it's own, there are no more souls to pay with left in that stone. All that's left is the homunculus' own... let's call it consciousness, I refuse to believe this thing has a soul." It was said with a bitter tinge and for a moment Mustang looks like he wants to kill something, preferable what is left of the homunculus. But then his face goes blank again. "Anyway, don't let it come near anything living and it will remain incapable of action," he says and Ed can see the metaphorical gears working behind his face as he is trying to think of a permanent solution.  
"So it can only get dangerous again when it gets some physical power and for now its only weapon is just... willpower?" she asks.

Mustang slowly nods. "Yes, all it can do is latch on to us and try to break our spirit through its sheer will."

"How does it..." Ed trails off, not able to decide between "do that?" and "feel?".

Mustang decides for "feel?" when he answers, his voice quiet and forced. "It's like you're a puppet dangling from your strings. You can't feel your limbs yet you know they are moving because you can see it. You hear yourself speaking yet you're not saying a word, someone else uses your vocal chords. Eating is like getting fed, like someone else shoves food into you, no matter how much you know it's your own hand. And... when it took me out to _have some fun_..." he claps his hand over his mouth, staring wide eyed at the sheet covering his legs and looking like he might throw up. He doesn't though, as usual he catches himself fast, at least on the outside. Ed doesn't know what's going on behind his mask but she knows he's wearing one and isn't that calm at all. Unfortunately she also doesn't know what to do about this.

"I tried to stop it," he finally continues, "I could shove it back a lot, could keep it from meddling with the military or contact other homunculus, could control my body almost completely again. But it kept me from telling my people too and-" He swallows, shame on his face. "It was way stronger and much more persistent when it came to getting me to commit it's personal sin. I guess it hoped to break me that way. Or maybe it's just because it's made out of it. It said so, at least. Said it-... _she_ is nothing but her father's discarded desire. Pure, personificated..."

"Lust." Ed finishes the sentence for him, mostly so she will finally completely believe it herself.

"Yes." Mustang says bitterly. "Funny how I build that womaniser reputation to distract my enemies from what is really going on and now it came back to bite me in the ass because _no one_ thought anything about my behaviour."

Ed lowers her head, admitting that she too hadn't been able to tell the tactical facade from the monster. Mustang just sighs. It seems like he doesn't see any use in accusing anyone. He probably just takes the blindness of even those closest to him as his punishment for not being able to repress the homunculus completely. At least Ed knows she would do that.

They sit in silence for a while again, then she can't help but speak. "Did you- it...Hawkeye..." But she can't form the sentence after all.

"No." Mustang shakes his head, understanding anyway.

"Then why me?" Ed blurts. How come he'd been strong enough to not jump Hawkeye yet hadn't been resistant enough to protect Edeline?! She knew the lieutenant was probably the most important person on earth to Mustang, but still...

The colonel clenches the bedsheets between his fingers, his knuckles turning white while he tries to say what he wants to say but somehow can't. He's like a schoolboy about to stutter out his first confession of love but Ed doesn't think that's what he'll say.

"It went for what it knew I wanted anyway," he finally admits, swallowing hard and looking away.

Ed's eyes widen and she just stares. When she doesn't yell or scream or beat the hell out of him immediately, Mustang continues. "You're smart, you're strong and you are too damn pretty for your own good. You can't blame a man for wanting that... wanting you."

Ed now openly gapes at his huddled form. Somewhere something deep within tells her what he thinks of her might be the truth and she feels incredibly happy, but the bigger part of her knows she's also scarred, mentally and physically, is loud-mouthed and brash, sarcastic and bitter. There's no way that what Mustang listed could outweigh those flaws. Mustang has to be mentally ill himself to find her an attractive person in any way.

Yet... when in control he had touched her without fear or disgust, no hesitation in his moves apart from the fear of getting rejected himself.

Unable to deal with this for the moment Ed goes for the emergency escape, leading the topic back to her original question. "But so is Hawkeye!"

"She is, but not the way you are," Mustang admits, head still lowered, not daring to look at her for anything but a small peak to gauge her reaction. Funny how he could stare death in the face yet was unable to look at her right now. "She is strong, yes, but in a different way, she lacks your fire. She is smart but doesn't posses an alchemist's way of thinking. And I've known her for so long, her prettyness holds no attraction for me, she's a good friend, a sister maybe." A sardonic laugh leaves his lips. "Actually part of the damage control was to focus on her to turn me off whenever that thing tried to make me find you when it was not a god damn Saturday."

"So your dates during the week...?"

"Part of damage control as well. Because I would have never ever done this to you!" And she believes him for his eyes are wide and sincere, giving her a look that practically begs her to understand that it has never been _him_ doing all that has happened. "And I would have never ever pursued you anyway, you are so young and you deserve better than me. Why-...did it really never seem strange to you that I would ask such a thing from you?!" He still isn't accusing anybody, his question is a question to himself as he doubts himself, doubts his strength, his resolve, his morals. This whole ordeal has thrown him over and it seems he's lost some footing in his believes in who he is. "Why did you even agree? Why did you never tell anybody?!"

"For Al. And I-..." She stops. She can't tell him those old, stupid, _childish_ reasons. But this really seems to bother the man sitting in the hospital bed like he wants to pull his legs in and rest his head on his knees, so she takes a deep breath and rushes out "Ithoughtmaybeinareallyweirdwayyoutriedtoshowmeyoulikeme." She can tell he pulled off the incredible feat of understanding her jumbled sentence by the way his eyes widen and he utters a quiet "Oh."

She clenches her fists, bright red in the face. Mustang looks like he wants to laugh at this irony, at how he thought Ed would be disgusted if she ever knew his true thoughts about her when Ed had at one point actually hoped that he might think such things about her. But in the end he only shakes his head again. "Ed, no one tells you they like you by coercing you into such a deal!"

"I know now, I know I'm stupid!", she snaps.

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, careful not to disturb the IV needle. "You're not stupid, you're just young and naïve."

"Not any longer," she states the bitter truth.

He finally gives in and pulls his legs towards him, wrapping his arms around them. It's the closest to curling up in himself that the remnants of his pride will allow. "I know."

For a while they sit in silence and Ed realizes that she really can't take the presence of a defeated Mustang. No matter how much she had hated him, even during the past month she had always counted on him to be the one who knew how to walk on, to dig up leads and push them forwards with his challenging smug smirk and a few words that were neither as hollow nor as manipulating as she always cursed them out to be. She needs that Mustang back, not only for her and Al but also for his team. And so she gives him something she had planned on taking with her to her grave.

"Thank you."

"What?" He's startled, doesn't understand.

"For trying to make it up to me before shooting yourself."

He continues to stare. Ed looks back evenly. His service gun on the coffee table, the bottle of alcohol and his strange mood. _You don't want to see this_ , he had said. It seemed he had hoped she wouldn't figure that out. And it had taken her a while but when she lay down in her bed to catch what sleep she could before having to deal with all this again, it had suddenly been very clear. "You were about to blow your brains out how ever many times it would take until the homunculus couldn't regenerate anymore and you finally could kill it along with you."

"It was the last weapon I had left against it," he admits quietly. Then chuckles darkly. "I knew it couldn't stop me, unlike Hughes Lust sucks at talking someone out of going down the wrong way."

"And you could have kicked me out to go down that way no matter all my protest. Yet instead you tricked Lust into letting you have enough control to try and treat me right for one night. And for that, I thank you." She bows her head to the still slightly surprised Mustang.

He shakes his head. "There is no need to thank me, I should have tried the gun long before I could have ever treated you wrong."

She slaps him over the head. "You idiot! I would have endured that much longer to give you the time to try and see if maybe you can find another solution! Sure, I would have hated you all the way long but I would have understood afterwards, like I understand _now_!" She stops in her revelation, blinks once, then smiles. Yes, she really does understand by now. Understands that it's neither Mustang's fault nor hers, understands that he's done all he could to prevent the most horrible outcomes. She's not angry at him anymore, it's only the homunculus that deserves her wrath. "No matter what a smug ass you are, I've always counted on you to march forwards so I do not blame you for waiting and trying to find another way through this. Nobody died and my wounds will heal eventually, I've gone through worse. So get your self pitying ass up and move on! There are people who need you!"

Mustang looks at her, baffled, head cocked to the side as he tries to understand and grasp the meaning of what she just said. "You forgive me?" he finally asks.

"I forgive you." She stares him down until she's sure he knows she means it.

Finally his gaze drops and he stares down at his hands in his lap, contemplating. Then his eyes close and slowly his hands turn to fists. When he opens his eyes again there is a familiar sharpness in his gaze that Ed welcomes and revels in. Mustang, scheming, plotting, cunning, smug Colonel Roy Mustang, is back. His eyes are set on the future and when he turns to look at Ed his back straightens. "Very well, I will move forwards then."

Ed feels her own back straighten as she returns the look. "Good." There is an unspoken promise between them now and Ed knows that no matter what will happen in the future, Mustang will make her move on just like she made him. She gives him a shit eating grin. "Heal your ass fast, Al and me need a new mission. The last one was a fail."

Oh she has missed the smirk that crawls onto his face. "Did you get chased out of town again because you blew up buildings?"

"No we didn't!"

And the bickering match begins. It doesn't last as long as the both of them would have liked because a nurse comes to shoo Ed away so she won't tire out the healing colonel, but it was refreshing none the less. Ed feels like something within her has been reignited and the world suddenly has become a bit better. For once they had won a fight.

She looks back at the hospital, making out the window to Mustang's room. The confessions made between them buzz around her head but she knows now is not the time to think about all of this. Her body screams for some more sleep but even when she wakes up the time will not have come. It probably won't come for a long while. Not until Al has his body back, not until they have completely defeated the homunculi, not until Mustang has decided that she is old enough. Only then whatever is simmering at the bottom of their souls might have a chance. Until then she will only have a hand full of memories of loving touches and trust. But that is okay.

Ed turns and walks into the future, which for now consists of a nice nap in her bed.

When she stalks into the office of the finally returned colonel a week later, she sees that Mustang has a very interesting paperweight on his desk. To the average eye it looks like kitsch, a very boring glass thing like those Ed sometimes sees the merchants in the tourist towns sell to those who don't know what else they should bring as a souvenir. But she knows this thing is pure diamond, transmuted from the carbon within all the blood that Mustang threw up during that horrible night, while the two red pearls within are what is left of the homunculus. The monster is imprisoned in clear sight so that they can keep an eye on it until they know what to do about it. And also as a reminder to never let down their guard. Ed grins down at it, hoping the bitch can see it. Maybe having to watch the people who work in this office will finally teach it about the strength a human heart can hold and that the homunculi will never win, not as long as Ed, Mustang and their friends are still standing.


End file.
